What's Hidden Beneath
by followthatklainebow
Summary: Badboy Blaine hides away who he really is underneath a leather jacket and a few bruises, and instead he's McKinley's resident bully. Can Kurt be the one to save him from himself?


Kurt didn't know why he felt this way for Blaine.  
>He stalked around the hallways with his tight leather jacket and his dark hair gelled back with a devilishly handsome smirk on his lips and a dangerous air of confidence about him. Sometimes bruises on his knuckles too, if someone had managed to piss him off the day before.<p>

Perhaps it was because of that one day last year when Kurt had taken the long way home after he had spotted Blaine up ahead leaning peculiarly over a scruffy dog. It was a small dirty dog, covered in mud with a nasty scratch on its nose and a painfully lonely look on its face, eyes big and beseeching. Blaine had checked around himself for tale-telling bystanders (Kurt had stealthy hidden behind a bush) before scooping him up in his arms and hurrying away down the path.  
>Or maybe it was last Christmas Eve, when Kurt had spotted him alone in the park opposite his house, swinging slowly and kicking up the pebbles with his feet. The look on his face had been so devastating, and the usual threatening mask he wore had all but disappeared. Instead he had sat with his eyebrows pulled together and seemingly so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed when Kurt had come and sat down on the swing next to him.<p>

Oh yes, Kurt remembered that day well.

***  
>"Kurt, can you be a sweetheart and get the post from the mailbox?" Carole had asked whilst saving a piece of blackened toast from the toaster with a fork.<br>"Sure." She had smiled a grateful smile as she struggled to open a jar of peanut butter and Kurt had slipped on his coat and opened the door to the crisp winter morning air.  
>It wasn't until Kurt was halfway down the pathway, the ground crunching beneath his feet on the thin layer of snow that had settled, that he has seen him. He had held his hands spread out in front of him and stuck his nose up in the air, fishing for snowflakes, when he had heard the soft squeak of the swing.<br>He had briefly considered ignoring him and going about his business as usual - after all, the only actual interaction they had had before were Blaine's vulgar winks in crowded hallways and whatever minimal contact they got during lessons - but there was something about the expression on his face that had compelled Kurt to gather up his courage and walk across the deserted street and settle on the swing next to him.

"You okay?"

Blaine's head had snapped up immediately. Kurt watched, fascinated, as Blaine's eyes hardened and he built up that familiar mask again.  
>"What do you want?" He snapped. It might've scared Kurt if Blaine hadn't seemed so exhausted.<p>

"You just looked like you could use someone to sit with is all." Kurt shrugged. He supposed he should've been scared or at least a little intimidated by Blaine, what with the reputation he upheld. But no matter how hard he tried, all Kurt saw when he looked at him was someone who was in desperate need of a hug.

"Oh." When Blaine shrugged his shoulders he seemed to revert back to the boy from before, and Kurt supposed he must've figured it would be easy enough to just beat Kurt up if he decided he wanted to tell tales of the infamous 'Badboy' Blaine showing weakness in a deserted playground on an eerie winter morning.

"So... You okay?" Kurt had asked tentatively.

"Why do you care?" Blaine had asked bitterly. Kurt hesitated before answering.

"Just trying to help." Blaine looked him right in the eyes and then ever so slowly, Kurt had whispered "I won't tell anyone."  
>Something seemed to change in Blaine's eyes: they warmed ever so slightly and he looked up at Kurt as if he was going to let him in. But as quickly as it had happened, it was gone.<p>

"I don't need your help." He had said curtly, even though his eyes fixed onto a spot on the ground at his feet as if he was trying to convince himself more than he was Kurt.

"Sure about that?" Blaine's head had snapped up, and Kurt thought that maybe he saw a little admiration behind the disbelief in his eyes. "Do you want to come inside? You must be freezing." Kurt continued, noting the thin jacket he wore. Kurt tried not to let his eyes linger on his cold (slightly blue) lips, as all he could think about when he looked at them was how much he would just _love_ to warm them up.  
>Blaine seemed to consider it for a moment, which was honestly more than Kurt was expecting.<p>

"I... don't think that's such a good idea." He said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Kurt's eyebrows drew in together over his eyes in confusion, but Blaine was already on his feet.

"I've got to go." He said over his shoulder as he walked away, his shoulders slumped and his arms wrapped around his torso. Kurt had a strong urge to run after him and envelop him in a hug, but instead watched his back as his boots left heavy footprints in the snow.

The first day back at school Kurt had been at his locker looking over his schedule, when someone had grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

The books he had been holding tumbled to the ground and he suddenly found himself looking into a pair of smouldering golden eyes. Blaine pushed Kurt's shoulders back into the lockers and Kurt found his breath getting caught in his throat for all the wrong reasons as Blaine came in threateningly close to his face.  
>"If you tell anyone about what happened..." Kurt thought it would've sounded sincere to anyone else, but now he knew where to look, all Kurt could see was the boy hidden underneath. He let the threat trail off and manifest in the air as he pushed off Kurt's shoulders and walked away briskly.<p>

Kurt found it odd that of all the times he had been pushed around and into lockers by bullies (which he regretted to say happened more often than not) the confrontation with Blaine had not left a single scratch nor bruise on him, and all he could seem to remember of Blaine's hands were that they were impossibly gentle, albeit firm.

Ever since that morning on the cold swing set, Blaine had avoided Kurt. Before, he would go out of his way to shove on Kurt's shoulder harshly in the hallway or push him into his locker – even though again, Kurt didn't think Blaine had ever actually left any kind of mark on him – but now he wouldn't even look at Kurt.

Kurt thought that maybe, Blaine was scared of him.

And so, here Kurt sat, trying to sneak glances at Blaine whenever he wasn't looking. They were in English, one of the three lessons they had together (Kurt dared to call it fate) and they sat devastatingly close; so close that their arms would brush with the move of Blaine's hand scribbling notes – another thing Kurt found odd about him was how insanely smart Blaine was, considering his "badboy" attitude, but he supposed he must be stereotyping – and Kurt thrilled at the touch.

Kurt was jolted from his reverie when the teacher announced at the end of the lesson that there would be a prolonged project on _Classic and Contemporary Romantic Poetry_ worth 25% of their final grade to a chorus of moans. Kurt had watched as Blaine picked his name out of the fateful hat, and only just stopped himself from beaming up at the teacher like a lovesick puppy. Blaine's reaction, however, was to let out an exasperated sigh and crumple up the little piece of paper and shove it into his bag.

The bell shrilled obnoxiously in Kurt's ear and Blaine was the first on his feet and out the door, as he always was. But this time Kurt scooped up his books and ran out after him. There were people crowding the hallway, eager to get home, but he managed to spot Blaine's unmistakable head of dark hair at the end of the hallway.

"Blaine!" He called, jogging to catch up with him. Blaine didn't slow though, and when Kurt finally caught up with him and laid his hand on Blaine's arm, Kurt felt him tense. "Blaine." He said breathlessly.

"What?" Blaine said gruffly, as if he hadn't used his voice in a while.

"We need to... umm... the English project. When are you free?" _Stop babbling, you idiot. You're not asking him out, this is obligatory. _Blaine sighed and turned to face Kurt, yanking his arm out harshly from beneath Kurt's hand as he did.

"Fine. How about today? I want to get this done." _Oh._

"Today? Like right now?"

"Why the hell not?" Blaine shrugged.

"Oh, umm... okay. My place or yours?" _Oh sweet Gaga. That sounded more innocent in my head. _But to Kurt's surprise, Blaine cracked a smile. Granted, it only lasted a fraction of a second before he caught himself and replaced it with a grimace, but a smile nonetheless.

"Yours. I'll follow you there." Kurt decided not to embarrass himself any further but instead walked pointedly out to his car and sat down in the driver's seat. He took a second to catch his breath and clear his jumbled thoughts. _Don't screw this up. All he needs right now is a friend._

Once they arrived at Kurt's house, Kurt climbed out of his car and unlocked the front door, Blaine following silently behind.

"Kurt, honey? Is that you?" Carole's voice was painstakingly sweet in comparison to the boy standing next to him.

"Yeah." He answered lamely as Carole swept into the room.

"Oh. Hello." Carole greeted Blaine with an uncertain smile. "Kurt, you didn't tell me you were bringing a friend home."

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't know either. This is Blaine; we're partners for an English project."

"Well hello, Blaine. It's nice to meet you." Blaine smiled tightly, but didn't reply.

"We'll just be down in my room, then." Kurt said awkwardly, gesturing for Blaine to go ahead.

They walked into his room and Kurt threw his bag down heavily on his bed.

"The laptop's on the desk. Maybe we could start out by searching for poems to use as examples?" He said, not really intending for it to come out as a question.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll do classical. You do contemporary." Blaine sat down on my bed and pulled a book out of his bag, but it wasn't one of the ones the school supplied. No, this book looked old and was warn at the spine, the pages browning and curled at the edges with age.

Silently, Kurt sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop. This boy never failed to intrigue him, and he had to stop myself from asking him a collection of intruding questions that were bubbling on the tip of his tongue. Before Kurt even had the chance to pull up Google, Blaine was standing by his side, holding the book out towards him.

"How about this one?" He asked. "It's a classic."

Printed on the page in fading black cursive ink was Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Kurt beamed up at him. It seemed peculiar, someone like Blaine enjoying poetry as intimate as this. "It's perfect." Blaine's breath seemed to catch in his throat then, and he turned away quickly and sat back on the bed.

"Good. How many more of these do I need to find?" He asked irritably, but he seemed tired at the same time, as though he didn't have the effort to keep up his pretences.

"Only a few." Kurt replied, attempting to go back to work, but he knew he couldn't work properly like this; with all these questions bouncing around in his mind. "Blaine?" Kurt took his silence as a signal to keep talking.

"Are you gay?" But as it happened, Kurt had unknowingly asked him whilst he was taking a big gulp of water from a bottle in his bag and now he lay, coughing and spluttering, on Kurt's bed. Kurt jumped up immediately and bounded over to the bed, sitting beside him and rubbing his back through his leather jacket without thinking. (Of course he was still wearing it).

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked once he seemed to be breathing regularly again.

"You're... are you trying to kill me?" He asked, a little annoyed.

"No! I'm sorry! I didn't realise you were drinking! It's just something I've been wondering about for a while now. You... you don't have to... I'm sorry if I'm overstepping." Kurt said quietly, suddenly finding his fingers very interesting. Blaine sighed softly.

"Yes. I don't know why I'm telling you this. But yes. I'm gay." He said slowly. Kurt brought his head up to find Blaine looking him straight in the eyes, his golden eyes smouldering. There was a kind of trust between them, as if he knew that Kurt didn't believe any of it: any of the lies. He knew that the Blaine everyone else knew, the Blaine everyone else was afraid of, wasn't the real him at all.

"Does anyone else know?" Kurt asked in a small voice, like if I spoke to loudly it would break the quiet of the trust in the room.

"No. Except my parents. That didn't go too well." The look in Blaine's eyes was heartbreaking. Kurt understood then. Beneath all of these pretences, this fake Blaine was just a scared little boy inside, a scared little boy who had told his darkest secret and been denied his greatest desires. A scared little boy that needed someone to tell him everything was going to be alright; to hold him close and whisper how beautiful he was.

Kurt took his hand.

Blaine stared at their hands for a while before he stood, pulling his hand from Kurt's. He missed the warmth. "I need to go." He had said before grabbing his bag and sprinting up the stairs. Kurt stayed sitting on the edge of the bed after he heard the door click softly behind him, his gaze never leaving his hand that still lay on the bed, palm up and open.

"Kurt? Is everything okay?" Carole called from the kitchen. "Blaine seemed a little shaken."

"Y-yeah. I'm okay." Kurt shouted back, the loudness of it hurting his ears.

That night Kurt found himself lying awake in bed, wondering how he had fallen so helplessly for a boy who didn't even know who he was.

**A/N: So I don't actually know where this is going. Let's enjoy it while it lasts, eh?**

**This was just a little something produced by my insomnia. If you want more tell me, and I'll see if I can actually come up with a plot ;)**

**Disclaimer: All credits go to creators of Glee.**


End file.
